


Of the Golden Sun

by JSwander



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Rating May Change, Sith Qui-Gon Jinn, Tangled AU, a bit of angst, some minor whumping of obi-wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSwander/pseuds/JSwander
Summary: The day Obi-Wan Kenobi turned twelve, a golden flower bloomed in the Jedi Temple.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 151





	Of the Golden Sun

The morning that Obi-Wan Kenobi was twelve, he woke up humming.

He thought it was odd, because he hadn't much felt like singing in recent weeks.

He would be aging out of the Initiates dorms soon. With no master having shown the slightest interest in him, he would likely be sent on to serve in the Agricorps. He had been mentally preparing himself for quite a while, carefully packing his dreams into a neat little box.

He certainly didn't feel like singing.

But in the fresher that morning, under the battering stream of warm water he found he couldn't help it. The melody had rooted and grown in his mind.

He had certainly never heard it before, ethereal and _bright_. He couldn't quite get the tone right.

Obi-Wan continued to ponder on it, wandering listlessly throughout his morning routine.

He found himself looking forward to the morning's meditation, where perhaps he could quiet his mind a bit. Maybe sing a few other songs in his head to drown it out, flush it out of his subconscious.

-

But the temple was abuzz that day.

Something far more exciting was going on.

In the temple gardens, down a carefully curated winding path there was a serene little alcove. A walkway of white stones looped in a circle around an unassuming patch of bare dirt. Among lush flowering shrubs and bushes, exotic herbs and delicate fragrant blossoms, this central patch was carefully bare.

No weeds grew here. The dark earth carefully maintained and raked but never planted.

The stones around it were marked in a curious design, resembling the arms of a sun stretching outward from it.

A lovely design, but a curiosity.

Why did nothing grow here?

On occasion a padawan or young knight might ask, but it was such an unassuming little curiosity of the temple that the questions were few and far between.

The answer to the question of the patch was addressed on the night that Obi-Wan Kenobi turned twelve.

On the bare patch of earth of that ancient planet, situated above a rift of pure energy in the Force as old as the galaxy itself;

A flower bloomed.

-

Instead of meditation, Obi-Wan Kenobi was asked to help gather the other initiates to go out to the garden to see.

Quite a few Jedi had already gathered there, speaking in low, excited murmurs to one another.

Master Shokun was busy explaining to the initiates and younglings something quite important.

Something about the sun, and the planets. Life and the soul. A bridge between the two... living energy of the Force...

The singing was getting louder out here. Was it coming from outside the Temple?

It was beautiful, but... incessant. Wanting. Summoning.

Obi-Wan shuffled in place restlessly. Something felt wrong. There was something he needed to be doing.

Obi-Wan gently tugged on the Master's robe to complain of a headache.

“In a moment Obi-Wan, this is important... only once every thousand years. Now that the flower has bloomed, it will call its soul to the temple,” Shokun continued to the group, waiving Obi-Wan off.

It was getting difficult to hear over the song. Obi-Wan nodded, blearily offering an apology that didn't reach his own ears and retreated to the back of the group, letting himself linger half-hidden in a flower-bush. More Jedi were arriving by the minute.

He didn't want to get in anyone's way.

“However that may take years, if they are fortunate enough to find their way. Already, seekers from the Jedi order have been dispatched across the galaxy...”

“Are you alright, young one?”

A torgruta jedi knight with a kind face placed a warm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. The boy pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes.

“Can't you hear it?” He whimpered. His chest felt tight, his throat synced.

She crouched down next to him in a half-kneel. Obi-Wan didn't know if he wanted to slap her away or curl in close, desperate for comfort in a way he hadn't felt since he was a youngling.

He was so suddenly overwhelmed.

“Hear what?”

“The... the music.”

To his mortification, there were tears rolling down his cheeks now. His body had begun to ache, feeling weak. There was something... missing. Something he _needed_. A bit like the growing pains his own body was beginning to endure – only this time it was his mind – or his heart? Stretched out too wide, aching at the joints.

“You hear music?” He expected her to laugh, or sound concerned. But her voice was strangely breathless.

“Do you hear it too?” He asked her desperately, eyes bright.

The Jedi shot to her feet, keeping her hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to spur him forward.

“ _Move, out of the way, please!_ ”

Obi-Wan staggered along at her side as the Jedi shuffled out of the way in the crowded patch of garden.

He was ushered past a whirl of cloaks and bodies to the center.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan found himself facing the most beautiful flower he had ever seen.

A graceful green stem curled out of the earth, supporting the fluted trumpet of lily-like petals that shimmered a rich, ethereal gold. Veins of molten light ran up and down the length of them, resonating in time to the melody burning through Obi-Wan's mind.

He was distantly aware of his knees hitting the earth, transfixed on the sight of it.

His body felt like it was floating, mental barriers falling away allowing him to expand outward.

This flower, it was... _him._

_Oh, there you are._

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but instead the music was pouring out from his throat now. His fingers reached out as the flower dissolved into a scatter of golden stars. As it did, a serene, blazing warmth filled him from finger to toes, blazing bright behind the lids of his eyes.

The melody reached a sublime, transcendent crescendo.

And then, everything was blissfully silent.

All eyes were on him, and nobody dared to breathe.

Obi-Wan blinked, breathing out slowly as the ache that had bothered him all morning was soothed away.

He closed his eyes, rubbing a last stray tear from his cheek.

It came away glittering gold.

* * *

The afternoon that Obi-Wan Kenobi turned twelve, his bunk in the Initiates dorm was emptied out.

Half a dozen teams of bewildered Jedi who had been sent off on what was meant to be a noble, years-long quest were summoned back to the temple mere hours after departure from Coruscant to the very surprising – but not at all unwelcome – news that the Sacred Flower of the Golden Sun had in fact made himself known the very same day that the flower had bloomed in the temple garden.

Obi-wan Kenobi was given the very surprising – but equally welcoming – news that he was not going to be sent away from the Temple to Bandomeer after all.

Instead, a retinue of several Jedi Masters had escorted him across the Temple to a lift taking them up to one of the tallest spires of the temple.

The room here had been going under a quick state of readying from the moment the flower emerged.

It didn't look like Jedi quarters at all. There was a quiet opulence about the place, softly lit in tones of cream and pale gold. Comfortable looking chairs surrounded a low table. There were shelves for books and other curiosities. An area for meditation overlooked wide windows with an impossibly lavish view of Coruscant sprawled out below. A large carved armoire and vanity were artfully placed close to an en-suite that Obi-Wan was sure to be similarly impressive. 

Fresh sheets were still being laid out on the luxuriant four-poster bed at the center of a large room.

A room all to himself.

Not a bunk, or a a simple cubbyhole for sparse meager belongings.

Obi-Wan wrung his hands, glancing aside at the Masters.

“Are... you sure this is right?” He asked hoarsely, unsure who to address.

“The Jedi forego a life of material possession in order to forge a stronger connection to the Living Force.” He moved to put his hand on Obi-Wan's head, a comforting gesture he had done quite often during lessons. At the last minute, Plo Koon seemed to reconsider, keeping his hands at his sides.

“This is something you will never strive for. Our efforts, in a way – have only ever been an attempt to recreate what will come naturally to you. Your joy is the joy of the universe. It will be our job from this day forward to protect you, and make sure you want for nothing.”

Obi-Wan's head spun at the notion. As a boy who just the other day had been scolded for keeping as much as a collection of bird feathers, the notion was difficult to get his mind around.

“Does this mean I can have my own lightsaber?”

“Be not mistaken, young one.” Yoda spoke up now, watching Obi-Wan carefully. “A Knight, you are not. Engaged in combat, you will not be.”

The boy shuffled awkwardly under the new robes he had been directed to change into. They were light and cool, and felt beautiful against his skin. But he found it difficult to focus now over a simmering flutter of confusion and bitterness.

He didn't mean to overstep.

Hadn't they just told him he could ask for anything?

_What am I meant to do then?_

“Are you sure there hasn't been some mistake?” Obi-Wan said, doing his best to stifle his nervous fidgeting. One of the Jedi Masters laughed at that. Though not unkindly, it caused Obi-Wan's ears to go immediately pink.

He was directed to the mirror at the vanity, guided to sit before his legs gave out from surprise. 

Obi-Wan touched his face in astonishment, if only to prove it was truly himself in the reflection.

His pale blue eyes had turned a vivid shade of green. Deep and vibrant, with an almost otherworldly brightness around the rim of the iris. More startling however, was his hair. It had grown several inches, now curling softly down to the shoulder, the color of soft-spun gold.

Obi-Wan had thought the clothes he wore now were strange – flowing white-and gold silks patterned after the Sundrop Flower. Between the traditional garments and his new appearance he looked... he didn't look like himself anymore.

“When will I change back?” He asked, hoping desperately he wouldn't be laughed at again.

Plo-Koon tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Dear boy, this _is_ who you are. What you were always meant to be.”

That night, Obi-Wan lay on the large, soft bed as sleep thoroughly eluded him.

There was to be a celebration the next day. A parade in his honor.

He was meant to meet important representatives from the Senate, and countless other very important people.

Someone had mentioned a speech. He desperately hoped that they hadn't meant for him to be the one to speak. 

Obi-Wan's stomach churned wildly.

Raised in the creche, and then with the other Initiates, he realized wildly that it was his first night he was spending entirely alone.

In the large, strange room, surrounded by nice things and stillness and quiet.

He hugged a pillow tightly to his chest, his back to the vanity mirror.

-

Over the next few days, Obi-Wan Kenobi learned that his new role within the temple was to join the ranks of the Healers. Under the careful guidance of Master Yoda and the Chief Healer Yavera, Obi-Wan began to realize the extent of his newfound abilities.

The song in his mind was the Force. He could _hear_ it.

When he sang to it, it answered him, as effortlessly as conversation.

With very little effort, Obi-Wan watched in wonder as he was able to coax the mending of a broken arm of one of the Jedi Knights. For another, he was able to restore full vision to an eye that had been blinded for years.

He put his hands on a third, and could _feel_ the strange affliction that had been harrowing their very bones, deep in the marrow – right itself and restore years back to their life.

A small group had gathered in the garden at a respectful distance as Obi-Wan's hands hovered over a withered rosebush, which rapidly flourished and bloomed.

“Do you understand now?” Yavera had asked him, carefully plucking a rose petal from his hair. The shine still lingered there, his eyes bright with living energy of the universe. “You are meant to do so much more than be a Knight. will Her voice was reverent, holding his hands carefully.

“You don't need to fight. Just being as you are, you are a _living flame_ against the darkness. The miracles you will work will be known throughout history.”

For a child who had become so accustomed to being overlooked by the Knights and Masters, it certainly was a wondrous notion to consider.

-

In time, Obi-Wan slowly became accustomed to his new appearance. The sight of his gold hair and odd eyes no longer startled him in the mornings.

He became used to the fine ornate white-and-gold garments that were provided for him that showed the mark of his station.

He slowly found it easier to sleep in the heavy quiet of his tower room – far away from the comfort and company of others.

Obi-Wan's days were largely spent in the Halls of Healing, tending to fallen knights and masters. Special permissions were given to open the Hall to the sick and dying of the Republic. Those who appealed would be granted audience to Obi-Wan.

Young children afflicted with grave illnesses.

Injured parents and family heads unable to support the ones that they cared for.

An endless tide of people who would have been claimed untimely by darkness.

Obi-Wan was able to effortlessly take their pain away.

The work was fulfilling, and eased his own ache over being denied a chance at Knighthood.

What did he want it for after all, if not to help others?

In a few short months, he had saved more lives than some Knights could boast throughout their entire career.

Seeing those who pilgrimaged to see him leave strong and well and young would be a bottomless source of joy for him in the days to come.

-

At the base of Obi-Wan's tower, a private little garden thrived.

It wasn't 'his' specifically – he didn't think, at least. But due to its close proximity to his own quarters, and relative distance from every place else, Obi-Wan tended to be the only one who frequented the small haven. Tall bushes and leafy trellises blocked out the view of anyone outside or within the Temple. The path to it was winding and out of the way. Very few even knew that it existed.

Some of the Healers came by every now and then to plant certain herbs there. Rare blossoms or vegetation with unique medical qualities, ones from distant planets and ecosystems that would normally be unable to thrive in even the most controlled environment in Coruscant.

Here, they all flourished.

Obi-Wan walked barefoot across the soft grass. It soothed him to be around greenery and living things. At least, he preferred it to his own tower room, which often felt like its own isolated world.

He found himself speaking to the flowers, sometimes. About nothing in particular, just about his day and those he had seen or healed. He gently brushed the stems with his fingertips, or the silk-soft flesh of the petals, humming the song under his breath as he did so.

He carefully traced thorns or blossoms thick with pollen, imagining what worlds and distant systems they might have come from.

The galaxy was such a big and wondrous place.

-

Some aspects of his new life came less easily to Obi-Wan.

Seeing his peers bow respectfully to him as they past by one another in the Temple had been the most jarring. As a young boy desperate to become a Knight, he had fantasized once or twice of earning the respect and admiration of others in the Jedi order. Sometime in the future, when he had come into his own as an adult, confident and competent. Maybe sitting on the Jedi Council one day, or endearing himself to a padawan of his own.

To have that sort of attention now though, when he had done so little to deserve it...

It made him feel awkward, the attention insincere.

He could no longer join his old friends to eat or play, or get up to mischief during downtime between lessons. Obi-Wan was tutored privately in his lovely tower, and while walking about the temple he was attended by two healers at all time. He privately thought this was absurd, their time better spent elsewhere. 

While there was no strict rule keeping others from fraternizing with the Sacred Flower of the Golden Sun, it was clear that invisible walls had been erected between the boy and his peers.

Obi-Wan only realized the extent of this in full when he turned thirteen. Bruck, the other oldest initiate apart from himself aged out of the Temple and was sent away to join the Agricorps. Up until Obi-Wan's transformation, the two had frequently clashed. Bruck had infamously given Obi-Wan the nickname “Oafy-Wan” (something he had not missed at all since he was removed from consideration of padawanship) and by rights Obi-Wan should have been nothing but smug over him being sent away, while he himself enjoyed such an important position within the Jedi ranks.

He watched from the other side of the room of one thousand fountains, watching him bid farewell to friends and peers that Obi-Wan hadn't spoken with in months.

Bant, the small Mon Calamari gave him a polite hug of farewell.

Bruck would be going off to work with others in the fields. He would be dedicating his life to making things grow, making things better. Like Obi-Wan, just a bit more slowly.

In his mind's eye, Obi-Wan saw him there on that distant green planet – getting to know friends, learning the simple pleasures of life outside the temple.

Maybe swimming in lakes on days off, or playing sabacc or traveling to new and interesting places. 

Watching the sun set in the company of a few special others.

An odd, half-formed vision floated there. Obi-Wan could see it plainly. Only he wasn't quite sure it was Bruck he was imagining anymore. Silhouetted against a sunset, sides casually brushing with another. Arms easily slung around waists and shoulders, fingers twining. 

Obi-Wan gripped his own forearm, realizing with a panicked lurch that it had been... months... since anyone had so much as touched him with any sort of familiarity.

-

Obi-Wan returned to his little hidden garden, wringing his sleeves with undefined distress.

He opened his mouth to speak to the plants, but found no words came out.

He didn't want to talk anymore.

He sat down between two bushes, his bare feet digging into the earth.

He carefully looked around to ensure nobody was watching.

As usual, he was alone.

He sniffled quietly, the admission of sadness hurting in a good way, like picking at a scab. A tear leaked out of each eye, staining his sleeves.

After these cracks, the dam broke. Obi-Wan's tears fell freely, letting himself sob into his knees.

He felt a bit silly as he did so. Really, he had nothing truly to be so upset over.

Obi-Wan was important, he was practically worshiped.

There was a day on the Coruscanti calendar commemorating him coming into existence as the Sacred Flower. Obi-Wan was even allowed to accept gifts from dignitaries and other important political figures, similar to how one might celebrate a birthday.

Still, the boy cried – aching and starved for something he couldn't describe.

It would be alright.

He just needed a few moments to himself to let it out.

He was already starting to feel a bit better.

“Obi-Wan!” He looked up, startled.

The grass under his feet had turned dry and prickly. The flowers and bushes bowed with graying leaves, weeping petals fell to the dusty ground.

“Are you alright, are you hurt?” They grasped his shoulders and stroked his hair as Obi-Wan furiously scrubbed the tears from his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?”

“What... did I do this?”

His heart pounded in panic.

So many of these plants crumbling plants were so rare.

Some of them were nearly the last of their kind.

They were here for him to care for.

Obi-Wan stayed out in the little garden late into the night, carefully watched over by his guard as he sang to the Force until his voice was nearly gone, painstakingly coaxing each plant back to life.

For many of them though, it was too late.

He could perform miracles, but Obi-Wan could not restore those who had given up the seed of life itself.

From that point on, Obi-Wan made a careful point to stay in his high tower until he could learn to properly master his emotions – emerging to heal and be seen when necessary, and strayed for little else.

In this fashion, Obi-Wan Kenobi did not set foot outside the Temple for the next five years.


End file.
